From Above
by mandapants
Summary: An alternate story of Bastogne. What if one snow storm changed the face of history and brought about new chains of events for the men of Easy Company and for a certain something that seemingly falls from the heavens? CHAPTER FOUR IS NOW HERE!
1. Fallen From Above

**Title: From Above**

**Rating: T for now. Who knows?**

**Disclaimer: As much as I wish it, not mine.**

**Author: mandapants aka Amanda**

**Genre: romance/drama/action/ish**

**Note: This is my first BoB fiction. I've loved the series for long enough, I decided to write a little something about it. This story just kind of came to me, I truly hope you enjoy it. Comments would be much appreciated! Happy reading!**

The snow had fallen heavily that night, blanketing the rough terrain in a soft layer of white powder, hiding from human eye the red stains that poisoned the ground. All was still in Bastonge that morning, in the forests where on either side of a small clearing in the woods, opposing sides of the biggest war in history hid in small holes in the ground, praying that their personal ditch would be enough to protect them throughout each barrage of artillery fire.

It was a nerve-racking experience, being on the front lines; knowing that at any moment a shell could come crashing down upon your makeshift shelter, blowing you, your training, and your standard size nine boots to hell. Luckily though, for the men of Easy Company, the snowfall the night before had brought with it a calm and peace upon the battlefront as the sun rose. There was an eerie silence about the battlefield. Usually the faint sounds of shuffling troops and the reloading of guns could be heard, but on this morning: nothing.

Pulling out his last pack of cigarettes, Joe Toye placed one in his mouth, lit it, and inhaled the smoke. He gazed out at the line, at the snow that covered up the blood and bodies of his companions, and his enemies. He and Bill Guarnere, who was now snoring lightly to his left, had been on the line all night. Toye, who had lost to Wild Bill in a definitive game of 'rock, paper, scissors,' was stuck staying awake the entire time to watch the line, the line which had not so much as stirred in the slightest since it had started snowing heavily around 0100. He was tired and anxious to get off the line, and thusly, he was in dire need of a cigarette.

Only moments after having lit up, his buddy Bill awoke beside him. He briefly looked around, at the line which had not moved, and then looked to Toye who was sitting innocently, cigarette in his mouth. "Now I know you was gonna wake me up and offer me one of those smokes, eh pal?" He asked Toye, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the pack of cigarettes despite the complaints that immediately erupted.

Swiftly, Bill gave Joe and smack in the back of his helmet in a friendly but stern way, "watch the line, chump," he ordered, lighting up the last of Toye's cigarettes and discarding the case by throwing it up and out of the foxhole. Bill inhaled, looked towards the sky, and exhaled, looking towards the sun with his brow furrowed. "Got the time Toye? Looks like we should be outta here pretty soon."

Instinctively, Bill looked towards the line, readying his gun as Joe relaxed his own, rolling up his sleeve to look at his watch. "Yep, it's almost 0700 now, they've gotta be sending someone out here. I'm so sick of sitting in this hell hole, I swear, my ass is numb. Why the fuck does it always seem colder on the line?" Bill chuckled, muttered a "no idea," under his breath and motioned for Toye to stay relaxed, he could handle the line.

They sat like that for many minutes, smoking, Bill watching the line, Joe relaxing. Joe, who hadn't slept at all during the night took the opportunity the lean his had back against the dirt and close his eyes. It was just as he was drifting to sleep that he heard a rustling behind their foxhole. Pulling out his pistol he whipped around quickly, zeroing in on the disturbance. He didn't actually expect to see the enemy advancing from the rear, but tough training was a hard thing to shake. He smiled upon IDing the person advancing on them and lowered his gun. "Christ Doc, tell me you're here to relieve us," spoke Toye as Doc crawled in the snow towards them, eyes fixed on the line in order to know if he had been spotted.

"Sorry Joe," he said as he reached the foxhole, looking down at the two men. "I've got some bad news from HQ," he hesitated, looking and the once hopeful faces of both Joe and Bill, who had given up watching the line to hear the news. He took a deep breath and continued, "the krauts took advantage of the storm last night and marched right through the left and right flanks and took Bastogne. We've got only a few square miles left of allie occupied territory, and that's us. They've got Easy surrounded." He inhaled deeply and looked towards the line, scowl on his face. "In the words of Captain Nixon this morning when he found out 'we are royally fucked.'"

Doc Roe looked to the empty cigarette case that was sitting just a little to his right. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a new pack, flicking it into the foxhole with the two men. "Here, I don't need 'em. You guys are going to be out here for a while longer. We got a lot of casualties stranded in our radius and no where to put them. We're short men and the line has become a goddamn circle, we've got a hell of a lot more ground to watch. Orders from Winters, stay here, watch the-"

Doc stopped speaking mid sentence as all three mens' attention was directed towards the sky as the first genuine noise of the morning erupted across the clear blue. German artillery immediately opened fire as three supply planes flew over, haphazardly trying to drop supplies to their surrounded troops. Roe rolled into the foxhole in a split second. Supply boxes landed everywhere, everywhere it seems but in the allied territory. "Fuck, do they even train those shitheads?" Bill growled in a loud whisper as a box of what looked like medical supplies fell right into the German lines.

The three men instinctively flinched as a crashed echoed across the sky; one of the planes was hit. Its tail end was burning, streaking flames across the sky as it began to nose dive. It landed with a cacophonous boom just behind the tree line and out of sight. "Fuck," Toye added, letting the gravity of the situation hit him. Round two of the planes was even worse. Only two were left and as they flew over once more, desperately trying to drop supplies, some of which actually made it into Easy's radius this time. By the end of that run only one plane was left.

As the sound of the propellers finally faded into the air Roe looked to the two men on either side of them, "you know what they got when they captured Bastogne?" Both Bill and Toye looked at him with inquiry, neither sure of the answer. Roe took the time to examine each man before looking solemnly out at the line, "reinforcements. They're going to blow us away." With that realization the two other men looked towards the place where heavy artillery fire had been coming not moments before; Roe was right.

It was to all of their surprises when the faint sound of propellers could once again be heard over the horizon, the third plane was coming back. Surely it was returning only out of desperate orders, no pilot in his right mind would return to the site where two of his fellow planes had been shot down within minutes. Nevertheless, the plane returned and began a third drop. The three men looked at the sky transfixed. There was nothing they could do from where they were so they watched in amazement as the plane returned, obviously damaged from the previous attempts. They each had a personal investment in its success, it would be a small triumph over the enemy if just one plane made it. They were silently rooting for its success, just as every other man of Easy Company at that moment.

Their faces fell however as the plane was struck with a fatal blow, left engine igniting in flames just as it was passing back over the line watched by Guarnere, Toye, and Roe. The plane boomed as it burst in half, completely engulfed in flames. The men watched in horror as one of the crew bailed out, only to be attacked by machine gun fire from the Germans. The plane had been moving far too fast and far too low for a parachute to be effective. Roe flinched as one of the kraut bullets struck the trooper, sending a splatter of blood to the ground, staining the pristine whiteness.

Only seconds after bailing out the sure-to-be-dead trooper hit the ground with a thud, motionless. He was laying straight in front of the three allied men in their foxholes, halfway between them and the krauts. Thus the line had been drawn. If they thought they'd experienced war before, they were in for a shock. It was only beginning.


	2. The Grand Scheme

**Title: From Above**

**Rating: T for now. Who knows?**

**Disclaimer: As much as I wish it, not mine.**

**Author: mandapants aka Amanda**

**Genre: romance/drama/action/ish**

**Note: And now I present, Chapter two. The first chapter may have seemed kind of random as far as plot goes, but I promise, there is a purpose to everything. Some of which will be revealed…now!**

"Fuck! God damnit, I'm gonna die in this fucking hell hole!"

Bill Guarnere looked beside him to the replacement that had come to relieve Joe Toye of duty around 1200. He was curled up as deep in the foxhole as he could get, gripping his helmet tight against his head in a desperate attempt to shield himself from the enemy fire, screaming to the sky out of pure, unadulterated terror. Bill just started at him, cigarette perched carelessly between his lip and gun pointed out towards the krauts. He rolled his eyes in disgust and looked back at the line, "Jesus fucking Christ. How the hell did I get stuck with an idiot like you?"

Bill had not meant for the question to be answered but the young boy (though perhaps only 4 years Guarnere's junior) responded, panic apparent in his voice, on the verge of terrified tears. He shouted above the sound of the artillery fire, still frantically trying to shield himself, "I don't know sir, I don't know. I don't even have a star on my jump wings yet, sir!" he drawled in a thick southern accent, flinching as a shell landed ten feet to their left, razing all of the trees within a five foot radius. "God damn that was close!" Bill yelled, aiming his weapon and firing a few shots at what looked to be a German foxhole across the clearing. "Keep your head down, gun up. Don't ever take your eyes off the enemy," Bill addressed the boy who nodded weakly in response and positioned himself towards the clearing. His hands shook violently as he attempted to load his gun. Bill looked away in frustration. His eyes landed on the soldier still lying sprawled in the center of the clearing. He briefly felt bad for the lost trooper. Taking a long drag from his cigarette he muttered, "fucking replacements."

The heavy artillery fire continued in bursts until about 1500, Bill coaching his southern, South Carolina born replacement named Josh the entire time. "I was just sent here two days ago, sir," the boy said during one of the lapses in fire. Bill had found that any attempt at normal conversation helped to keep the young man's nerves down. "I was only supposed to help load supplies, I'm just a stock boy sir. Then we got stuck here during that storm, only to find out this morning that we were surrounded, sir. But you already know that." The boy shuffled in his spot, fidgety and nervous. He peered out of the foxhole as if expecting to be shot at. "Lt. Winters sent me out here. I told him I was new and not meant for line duty, ya know, real combat stuff. He said we were short man and I had my god damn jump wings for a reason. Sir, I didn't argue, I'm sorry you got stuck here with such a shit head."

Bill Guarnere laughed, "eh it's no problem, keeps me on my toes… well ass really." He chuckled, "Lt. Winters really say that? 'God damn' and all? He's not one for yelling." "No he's not, sir. And yes he did. Scared me too. Got real quiet and everyone stopped the second he raised his voice. I 'magine he's under a bit of stress." Bill smiled and turned back to face the line, "yea, you think?" He exhaled heavily. "When the fuck am I getting off the line?" He asked to no one, God perhaps, not that he was listening. The two men sat smoking in silence for a long moment; a few seconds that seemed to drag out into hours. The silence was a beautiful, peaceful thing. They each reveled in their silence.

Their silence was broken as a shrill whistling sounded close by. A moment later a shell hit the ground somewhere to the right of them, blowing snow, dirt, and timber through the air. "Shit," Guarnere yelled. "Here we go again!"

He readied his rifle, watching the line for any sign of movement. If a kraut so much as stuck a foot out of those woods Bill Guarnere would be damned in the German asshole ever saw that foot again. "Fuck!" Bill inhaled sharply as a piece of bark from an exploding tree hit him in the forearm. He immediately retracted to look at the wound. It was nothing serious, a minor flesh wound, not even really worthy of a bandage. Before he could relay the gravity of his wound onto Josh, the boy was already acting out of panic.

"Sir! I'll get you a medic, just don't move sir!" he yelled, jumping up and crawling out of the foxhole. "Medic!" He shouted, waving his arms around frantically above his head, moving away from the front. "What the fuck are you doing private?" Bill yelled at him, trying to crawl out of the foxhole. "No don't move sir! MED-"

Before Bill was fully out of the foxhole, Josh fell to the ground, bullet holes still steaming out of his chest, four or five of them from the looks of hit. Bill smashed his good fist into the snow and shook his head, "damnit!" He slid back into the foxhole, eyes fixed on the image Josh who lay in the snow not ten feet away from him, lifeless and limp. Bill sat like that for a long time, back facing the line, watching the boy's motionless face.

Bill Guarnere had seen many deaths in his days as a paratrooper and each one affected him differently. From some reason Josh's, he didn't even know the southerner's last name, was a real sad experience for Bill. It was as if nothing they did made a difference. They were doomed and helpless. Bill looked towards the sky, to the God that may be, and silently prayed for a sign of hope; a sign that maybe, just maybe, they weren't done for yet.

"Guarnere! Guarnere you ok?" Doc Roe was heading up towards the line in response to the calls for a medic he had heard. "Damnit what happened to him? Is this what I got the call for? Bill he's dead." Doc looked down at Josh's body and took a pulse to be sure. "He's the one that called for you Doc." Bill didn't look up, he kept staring at the face of the man he'd shared a foxhole with for 4 hours.

"What?" Doc asked, looking at the wounds. "After he was shot? There's no way, these had to have killed him within seconds."

"No Doc," Bill turned his gaze on the company medic as he began crawling towards the foxhole. Doc rolled inside and looked at Bill. "Hey, you ok? We're getting you off the line soon, you've only got an hour more."

Bill's tone was flat an monotonous as he responded, the combination of a stressful night on the front lines during the worst snowstorm of the war and witnessing the death of an overzealous man who was trying to save another life, shook Bill. "I'm fine." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag. He could feel himself relax, he could feel the tension dissipate at the smoke filled his lungs. "He called out to you for me. I got hit by some bark, nothing serious at all. I've already cleaned the wound with my personal aid kit. Didn't need you, but Josh," he motioned to the boy's body, "didn't realize that and went flying out of the foxhole trying to find you. I guess they didn't teach him front line rules before sending him out here. Sent him to his death more like it. You know he's not even combat ready yet? He was just delivering supplies."

Doc looked solemnly to the ground, "Yea, I did know. I showed him out here. You gotta understand Bill, it's hectic back there. We've got enemy attacking us from all sides and we had to get Toye off the line, he hadn't slept."

"I know," Bill said, looking towards the now silent line. "I know."

Doc reached out and put his hand on Bill's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Bill merely sat there and scowled, staring at the line. That damned line had invaded his thoughts for almost 24 hours. He felt violated. His purpose was to watch the line. When he wasn't watching the line he thought about his partner watching the line. His conversations were about the line. It was overwhelming and sickening. As he watched that damned line, watched the snow fall lightly between him and the enemy, watched the fallen trooper's parachute ruffle in the breeze from the corner of his eye Bill was amazed when the impossible happened.

Bill watched and that paratrooper moved, not just moved, but got into a crouching position. The trooper took one good look at the German lines and took off running towards Bill's foxhole. "What the-" Bill began, swatting at Roe to get his attention. His eyes were wide in amazement as he frantically tried to comprehend what was happening. In an instant, German machine gun fire erupted, aimed at the paratrooper that was still about 25 yards from the safety of Guarnere and Roe's foxhole.

"Covering fire God damnit!" Bill yelled. The other men stationed along the line answered and began to fire. Bill, too shocked to operate his weapon, watched. He watched the soldier zig and zag across the ground, trying to avoid gun shots and throw off the enemy. It seemed impossible, to survive a run from the middle of the clearing (which far too much resembled a no man's land) to a safe foxhole about 75 yards away.

It seemed impossible, but it happened. The soldier slid into the foxhole like a batter sliding into home plate. Bill and Doc both watched in awe as the trooper clutched his left arm, panting. It was then that Bill realized the most stunning thing of all. Sure, the trooper had just survived a death dash from the middle of a snowy field under heavy German machine gun fire, only after bailing out of an incinerating plane and falling to the ground too quickly for a parachute to be effective, and laid in the snow for nearly ten hours, but the truly amazing thing was that this paratrooper was not a he. No, this paratrooper was a she.

Bill Guarnere looked to the sky as the machine gun fire died down and laughed, "God, you twisted bastard."

**Note: bam. Were you expecting that? I wasn't. Well I was since I wrote it, but BAM. My story now has purpose. The next chapter will be from our mystery girl's point of view. Comments would be awesome!**


	3. The Flight

**Title: From Above**

**Rating: T for now. Who knows?**

**Disclaimer: As much as I wish it, not mine.**

**Author: mandapants aka Amanda**

**Genre: romance/drama/action/ish**

**Note: And here is Chapter three, it's significantly longer than the other two, so enjoy. And please review, they help motivate me to write and it's always nice to hear what you all think.**

Katherine Jacobs had joined the war effort for one reason and one reason alone: her idealistic sense of patriotism. It is that sense of patriotism that filled her with sorrow on December the 7th. It compelled her to raise money for the troops throughout her last year in school and once she had graduated, it led her to join the army in an effort to aid in any way possible, and consequently leave her family, friends, and cozy little Midwestern town free from dying men, flying bullets, and shattered senses of patriotism. What Katherine Jacobs did not recognize when she joined the war effort at the tender age of 18 is that there is no such thing as idealism in war.

She had not told her family she was leaving, nor her friends, nor anyone in town. The day after she graduated from high school she simply packed her things and left, leaving an empty bed for her parents to find in the morning. She knew that, had she told them, she would be met with protest and forbidden to go. Her parents were not of the same intense patriotism that Katherine held so dear. Katherine did not tell them where she was going, when she'd be back, or any information whatsoever. She contemplated many times whether or not she should write them, letting them know she was alright, but each time she put her pen to paper, no words seemed able to suffice.

That was a year and a half ago. Since that time Katherine turned 19, still not having contacted her family, and was shipped to Europe with her company. After being away from her quiet little town in southern Indiana for almost a year and a half, her lack of communication with the world she left behind lost its sting. The army was her family. The nurses were her friends. She didn't need anymore than that, it was soothing to be in the company of people who shared her convictions.

She had been assigned to do odd jobs, sometimes nursing, sometimes running mail across battalion. She was not tied down to one area of expertise, but was merely used when needed; a job Katherine found to be very satisfying. She always felt needed, she always had a purpose. It was to her great pleasure and surprise that she was sent to work in France not long after being shipped to England. She had always loved France, the country, the culture, the language; it all seemed so foreign and sophisticated to the small town girl with four years of high school French under her belt.

Living in France was a perpetual dream. Each day she woke up to the beautiful countryside and a whirl on fast speaking locals that provided her with excellent practice. Somehow her duties with the army seemed so much more pleasant with the backdrop of patisseries and boutiques. About a month after her battalion had moved into France, Katherine woke in the early in the morning the night after a powerful storm had plowed its way across France and into Belgium and she would soon learn that that storm would change everything for her.

She rose at the first sight of light that came streaming through the cracked window of her battalion's makeshift living quarters. She tip-toed across the freezing stone floor, careful not to wake the other girls in the room, and headed towards the hallway to find a place to changed. In a cramped bathroom down the hall that was adorned with a hideous floral wallpaper and tiny porcelain figurines, Katherine slipped into her uniform, which happened to be nothing more than the smallest size of the mens' combat uniform. She peeked through the blinds towards the bustling street outdoors and nearly squealed with joy at the sign of fresh, powdery snow.

Being a northern girl, snow had always been a comfort for her. It was like a big white blanket that made everything around seem so fresh and new. She looked away from the glorious haven that had formed outside and turned to evaluate herself in the mirror. She sighed, the constant presence of dirt and battle left her feeling very much like a man. She couldn't shower nearly as often as she liked and there was never enough of any kind of supply around. She was lucky if she could scrounge a hand towel from one of her supply runs. She hastily tied back her long brown hair and left, heading outside to greet her new wonderland; instead she was met with chaos.

As soon as she stepped outside, sounds of panic filled the air. Every available body was moving to and fro, moving supplies and men, waking still sleeping companies, acquiring information from commanding officers, or doing anything possible to aid whatever disaster had arrived while she slept. Katherine immediately prepared for a long day and began to search out on her commanding officers to receive instructions. Fighting through crowds of people, Katherine finally found the supply officer for her battalion.

"Sergeant Miller," she addressed him, "what has happened and what can I do to help, sir?" The Sergeant looked up from his clipboard where it appeared he was taking inventory and looked relieved upon sighting Katherine. "Private Jacobs I'm glad you're here. Follow me." He began walking in the opposite direction, Katherine in tow. His pace was quick and he was obviously as stressed as the other men of the battalion.

"That storm last night caused us some serious problems," he began, projecting his voice over his shoulder as they walked. "The US has got some troops up by Bastogne and that storm last night gave the Germans a perfect opportunity to attack. Didn't even know what hit 'em." He stopped quickly at a supply and air hanger and punched in a four-digit code to open the doors. "All I know at this point is that we've got some boys out there that are surrounded and are in serious need of supplies. So we're doing a drop, and Jacobs, I need you on that flight."

Katherine looked to her commanding officer with wide eyes, she had never been trained for flight. Supply running on land and supply running in air were two very different practices. "Don't worry Jacobs, you won't be making a jump, we just need you to help drop the supplies. This is closer to combat than we ever like to send the women but just about every member of battalion is tied up doing some odd job so you're going to have to do it."

"Yes sir," Katherine said, looking at the plane in the hanger that was being loading with crate after crate of supplies. The flying contraption looked much larger and more menacing up close than when flying in the air overhead. She had never ridden in a plane before and certainly didn't imagine her first time flying over enemy territory to drop supplies to some stranded troops. "When am I to leave?" She asked, looking to Sergeant Miller.

The Sergeant looked briefly at his watched and then back up at Katherine, "In about five minutes, we just need to finish loading this last plane. The other two are good to go. Come with me, I'll show you what you need to know." It took all of Katherine's willpower to not gasp in shock. She had been expected at least an hour or two to prepare, not five minutes. She took a moment to scan the hanger. Troops were walking quickly, sometimes running in every direction with supplies trying to stock the plane as fully as possible. It was at that moment that Katherine realized how big whatever was happening truly was; the entire battalion was on alert.

Sergeant Miller led her to a pile of parachutes and her eyes grew wide once more. "This is only for backup private, in case anything happens. You were trained on basic parachuting principles, correct?" The Sergeant asked, handing her a parachute and strapping it on properly. "Yes sir, but I've never applied those principles in actual practice." "If everything goes well you won't have to. This way Jacobs." He moved towards the plane that looked to be completely stocked.

"Alright, all you have to do is push the crates out when your pilot gives you the green light. You'll be strapped in so you won't fall. In the event the plane goes down and you have to bail push this release button," the Sergeant illustrating by pushing the button just inside the door for effect. "and it'll release you. Up to you to jump though, just remember to pull the cord and you'll be fine. It shouldn't come down to that though, this is just a simple drop. Remember to wait for the green light."

Before Katherine had a chance to respond or ask any lingering questions, the pilot helped her up into the plane and strapped her in. "On green, you open this door and start pushing the crates out, these straps are kind of flexible so you should be able to move around enough to get them all. Do it as fast as you can. Ready kid?" He asked, giving her a thumbs up. Katherine, who was past being shocked at this point smiled and returned the sign, damn right she was ready. This was the kind of thing she signed up for and once the initial shock of having such a task thrust upon her she realized what an opportunity this was. As a woman, she was actually going into combat, or as close to combat as any woman in service she had ever met had been.

The flight into Belgium had been rough. The three planes met sporadic enemy fire, each time sending adrenaline pumping through Katherine's veins in a way she didn't even know was possible. The lingering storm made it a turbulent ride with or without the enemy fire and Katherine thanked the heavens that she'd been given an air sickness pill at take off. Just when she was beginning to wonder just how long the flight was going to take, the red light came on in the cargo area. She braced herself against the doorframe in a kneeling position, ready to throw the doors open at the first possible second.

She could feel her heart pounding heavily in her chest, pumping blood and undoubtedly adrenaline throughout her veins. She took deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm herself. It was as if time was moving backwards, kneeling in the cargo area of a plane with nothing but a dimly glowing red light for company. She kept her eyes fixed on the light, willing it to change and in a split second, it did.

Katherine threw open the door as was nearly blown away by the freezing air that streamed in. The sound of fire was ten times as intense with the door open and she willed herself to focus, grabbing the first crate, pushing it to the door and letting it fall to the ground. She had only managed to drop four crates when a deafening explosion caused her to stop what she was doing. She peered out the side of the plane to see one of her fellow cargo carrying planes plummeting towards the ground. It hit with a resonating boom and exploded. She once again braced herself against the door frame, hands sweating, combat was all of a sudden far too real.

She knew they would go back, they hadn't gotten much accomplished and those troops were counting on them. Katherine closed her eyes, unwilling to look down at the ground below, or at the enemy that was firing upon her plane as the made their second round. With her eyes closed, Katherine pushed as many crates out of the plane as possible and at the sound of yet another explosion, nearly started to cry. Had she been a weaker person, she would have broken at that moment but she knew there was nothing more she could do and as the sound of fire faded away, she sighed heavily and opened her eyes, it was over.

She could hear the pilot yelling up front, it seemed odd, he was such a nice man and didn't strike her as one to yell. His voice echoed throughout the plane and although she couldn't make out any of the words, anxiety began to overcome her as she wondered what was going on. He heart dropped as she realized why the pilot was so angry; they were going back. The green light switched back on as they once again entered enemy air. "Oh no, no, no. This is not good." She muttered to herself as she did her duty, pushing crate after crate out the door.

Her heart stopped as a round of bullets ripped through the plane, piercing holes all through the armor, some as close as three feet from where she was kneeling. She saw the engine on her side of the plane ignite in flames and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. All the adrenaline in the world could not have prepared her for that feeling as the plane began to nosedive. Without thinking, she hit the button that kept her strapped into the plan and jumped without a second though. She pulled her parachute chord and prayed, maybe she should have written to her family after all.

The plane had been much closer to the ground than she thought when she jumped and she willed herself to slow down before hitting the hard earth. About halfway down, which was really only a couple seconds after jumping, she realized she was being shot at and frantically tried to steer her parachute out of harms way. Her attempts, though, were futile as a bullet grazed her arm, sending blood flying to the ground below her. She couldn't even bring herself to scream in pain. Two second later, she made contact with the ground, trying her best to land they way she'd been told, but with an injured arm and consciousness slowly slipping away her attempts was unsuccessful. Only by an irony was she saved from dying upon impact. The snow that brought her there and got her into this mess, was thick enough to cushion her fall. It was only as she lost consciousness in the snow that she wondered if the pilot had made it.

**Note: Again, please review, anything you like, dislike, predictions about the future, anything! Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!**


	4. War is not Fair

**Title: From Above**

**Rating: T for now. Who knows?**

**Disclaimer: As much as I wish it, not mine.**

**Author: mandapants [aka Amanda**

**Genre: romance/drama/action/ish**

**Note: Ok this is definitely my favorite chapter so far. I love the end because I finally got to tackle some of the philosophies of war. I want to give a big thanks to ****GottaPenny**** for the great, **_**substantial**_** review. I was at a bit of a standstill with this, I didn't think anyone really liked it, so thank you for the motivation to wrap up this chapter and give the story another chance. I hope you like it. As always, please review, they really help me write.**

It took an hour or so for Katherine to regain consciousness, cradling her wounded arm and shaking involuntarily in the freezing snow, her eyes flew open at the sound of intense artillery fire. She was laying on her stomach, head turned to the left, and injured arm held underneath her body to create pressure and stop the bleeding. With the boom of shells flying overhead and the whir of bullets that flew just past her, Katherine Jacobs couldn't force herself to move. She was in the middle of an open field; any kind of movement would surely get her shot. So she lay there, in the middle of the snow, losing feeling in her extremities, staring at the line in front of her and trying to decide whether or not she was looking at the good guys or the bad.

After a few hours, at least by her best estimate, and after having lulled in and out of consciousness three or four more times, Katherine once again stared at the line, this time to finally receive some conformation. An intense shelling had just ended and in the void of noise that hung in the air after such severe firing, one always expected to hear the strangled cries for help from the wounded, or in some cases, friends of the wounded-and-soon-to-be-dead. It was after this shelling however that Katherine, now almost completely without feeling in her arms and legs, not only heard the cry for help, but saw it too. She watched in befuddled amazement as a man jumped from his foxhole almost directly in front of her screaming for a medic. As would be expected, he was quickly taken down by enemy fire.

Katherine lay in the snow for a moment, watching small flakes fall around her. It was a sad moment for the 19 year old girl from southern Indiana, she was freezing, most likely had frost bite, she had been shot down, and was currently stuck in the middle of no man's land with no idea which side to run to- and then it hit her. The soldier had yelled for a medic, a _medic_, it was English! With renewed hope in her own fate, Katherine studied the line where she saw the man arise from the foxhole. She could just barely make out two figures below a covering of branches and snow; that foxhole became her destination.

It took all of Katherine's physical and mental power to force herself to move. Her bones ached and her skin seemed to rip with each move she made. Her heavy clothing had sheltered her from direct contact with the snow, but after lying, unmoving, in the white powder, much of her uniform had been soaked through. She knew that her first movement would grant her a few seconds of shock from the enemy, hopefully that would stall their fire. She prayed that when she decided to run, she wouldn't be shot down by her own countrymen.

Breathing in deeply with resolve, Katherine let her basic training take over. She unbuckled her parachute as best she could without moving much so that the second she stood, she could take off running. As soon as she heard the resounding click from the buckle unfastening, she pushed herself up. The second she stood, she nearly doubled over in pain, her entire body screamed in protest as she began to move one foot in front of the other, injured arm included. She could feel the painful burn of blood as it moved from the core of her body to her arms and legs. It was like acid running through her veins. As she got into the rhythm though, zig-zagging her way towards the foxhole that she held to be her personal safe haven, she could feel the adrenaline once again pumping in her veins and dulling the pain.

She was out of breath before she was even half way there. Her body was shutting down from the injury and the cold. Each step she took ripped through her as if her body was on fire, burning all the way from her fingertips to her toes. Stopping, however, was not an option as bullets began to fly around her. She dodged left and right, trying to avoid the German fire and she silently thanked God as her American comrades opened in covering fire. She almost believed she wouldn't make it; it seemed as if each bullet that struck the ground was a very near miss and as she slid into the foxhole in between the two men, the figures she had focused on earlier, she was nearly stunned into speechlessness. Nearly.

"Shit!" she screamed, grabbing at her injured arm and panting as if she'd just run a marathon. Her legs felt as if they would literally fall off. Bill Guarnere and Eugene Roe, who were still in a state of shock merely stared at the girl, mouths agape, unable to comprehend what had just happen. Doc Roe was the first to react and he instantly moved to remove her boots to check for frostbite. With some protest from a cursing Katherine, who apparently had the mouth of a sailor in life threatening situations, he finally got the shoes off and to her extraordinary luck, determined that she had narrowly escaped frostbite, though she was at risk of trenchfoot.

"We should get you off the line, find you some dry clothes." He said, still amazed at what had just transpired. Bill however, finally able to string words together and in his very cut-to-the-chase mannerism, interrupted, "where the fuck did you come from?"

Katherine, in pain and frustrated beyond comprehension, snapped back with enough force to silence the Philadelphian, "I came from the sky you moron you watched it. Now shut your mouth and stop staring. God damnit! I just did the fucking most amazing thing ever by running across there just now and you can get over the fact that I'm a girl." She then let out a frustrated sigh and winced as Doc Roe tried examining her wounded arm. Her attempts to swat him away were only met by a level headed response of, "I've got to do this if you want to keep your arm." Of course it wasn't nearly that severe, the bullet had only grazed her, but the point was made.

Just as Doc and Katherine were preparing to leave to get her somewhere safer to stitch up, two more troopers crawled up to the foxhole; it was Don Malarky and Babe Heffron. "We're here to take over for ya- what the Hell happened here?" Heffron began as he reached the foxhole. "Don't ask," was all Guarnere managed to respond as he crawled out of the foxhole, obviously disgruntled about being shut down by a girl- an injured one at that! "I'm getting back to wherever the fuck HQ is now, I'm sure you two can find your way to the _aid station_ by yourselves." He told Doc and Katherine not looking at them, but with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. It had been a long day to say the least.

Doc rolled his eyes in response, "yeah. Aid station." They both knew very well that the closest thing they had to an aid station, especially now that they were cut off from supplies and totally surrounded, was the first empty foxhole they found and Doc's bag.. Katherine was too oblivious from pain to catch the joke. With that, Bill shuffled away mumbling what sounded to be, "girls falling from the sky, fucking army," and various other obscenities of a colorful nature.

Doc reached out and squeezed Katherine's good shoulder as Malarky and Heffron slid into the foxhole to take their shift, "can you crawl far enough for us to get out of the Germans sights?" Katherine grit her teeth and began to move, she would not be made to look weak around these men. "Yeah, let's go." The two began crawling along the ground until they were sure that the steadily falling snow and the distance from the German line was enough to keep them from being seen. Katherine decided not to say anything about the dead soldier they passed on their way out. She knew he was the one who saved her from being stuck out in the snow any longer and she said a silent prayer for him, fate had traded his life for hers. It seemed all too unfair as she looked into the young face of the soldier.

As they stood to continue on foot, Doc decided to speak, "So what's you're name? I'm Eugene Roe, Easy Company medic, but most of the men here just call me Doc."

"Private Katherine Jacobs," she responded. "I was stationed with my battalion in France when we got knew that you guys got surrounded. I got sent to help drop supplies, and well, I'm sure you saw what happened after that." She looked up from the ground where she had unintentionally been directing her focus. "By the way, do you have any idea where we're going?" She asked, noting that it seemed more like they were wandering than heading to a definite point. "Where exactly is your aid station?"

Doc laughed at that, "you must not have caught the joke. We ain't got no aid station. I'm the walking aid station, medic, surgeon, and supply officer to boot." Letting out an exasperated sigh Katherine muttered, "great, just great," and she stopped at a tree and slouched down, holding her head in her hands.

She hated being weak, she hated knowing that she was about to break down in front of this man that she had just met, but the events of the day all seemed to catch up to her upon the realization that she was stuck in a damned place that didn't even have a proper aid station. She looked ahead blankly, staring at the snow that drifted down lightly into the forest. She had been so excited for the snow when she woke up. She always loved snow; but she loved it under the condition that there was a cup of hot cocoa waiting for her when she decided she'd had enough. The snow was much different in an expansive forest with people who'll shoot at you.

_Oh God,_ she thought. _I was shot at._ Taking in a shaky breath, the tears began to fall. Silently, the tears streamed down her face as she let the physical and emotional fatigue of the day catch her. Doc, stunned but sympathetic, crouched next to her and squeezed her shoulder in solace. He didn't say a word. She didn't need words.

"They shot at me," she stated simply, still gazing ahead, focusing on nothing and everything at the same time. "I was already falling to my doom and they shot at me," she said, voice cracking with a distraught hiccup. She was steadily becoming more and more hysterical. "Why would they do that? I didn't shoot at them! I was helpless, just trying to help my country, my fellow patriots. How fair can war be if you shoot a helpless person?" she asked him, finally tearing her gaze from the falling snow and meeting his eyes. "I didn't do anything to them! How can someone just shoot me? They don't know who I am, I have a family and friends, why would they want me dead?" Katherine had reached the point of full on hysterics. Her voice grew louder and her breath heavier with each word she spoke. She could not wrap her mind around the notion of ending another human life.

"If I shot at them maybe, _maybe_ then they'd have the right to shoot back but- I was just falling! _Falling!_" She had begun to hyperventilate and grabbed into Doc's shoulders for support. At that moment in the damned forest, the two of them, crouched in the snow, Katherine completely overwhelmed in hysterics, Doc could only think of one appropriate thing to say to her.

"War is not fair."

When he spoke, Katherine's eyes that had been diverted, quickly met his and her panic paused. She tried to gain control over herself, ashamed at what had just transpired. She could only say one thing through the tears and aching that had consumed her: "Why?"

"We live on a 'shoot the other guy before he shoots you' kind of basis. It's not fair. It's not patriotic. It's survival," he told her, trying to make the best sense of the world of violence to which he had become so accustomed. "We all joined the army for different reasons. Me, I joined because I thought I could help, Bill joined because his brother did and he wanted to show his mom he was just as good. And you, you joined for reasons that are your own." Doc cupped her face with his palms, wiping away her tears and steadying her. "But once you're here," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "once you experience real fighting; you learn. It doesn't matter why you joined. We all fight for the same reason: to survive. _That_ is why they shot at you Private Katherine Jacobs, and that is why tomorrow, we will shoot at them."

He stood and reached out his hand to her; she took it unsteadily as he helped her to her feet. "Let's get you cleaned up." He smiled kindly a led her away from the front lines.


End file.
